


If I Could Turn Back Time

by Kunfetti



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Death, Kinda but not really, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23703913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti
Summary: What are the lengths someone will go to to save the one they love?
Relationships: James Griffin/Keith (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	If I Could Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, long time no see?! I know its been like 30 years but life, amirite?
> 
> Anyway, this was written for the Jaith zine and idk if I can post it now or not but I've lost touch with them and I wanted to share this since it's been sitting collecting dust. Hope you enjoy it.

Keith stares at the chipped mug between James Griffin’s hands as if it holds all the answers to the universe. He never thought he’d be here, at thirty-three, sitting across from someone he never thought he’d see again. In their old apartment even, though now it holds no sign of their cohabitation.

Yet.

“So, why don’t you start from the beginning?” James asks, taking a knowing sip of his tea.  _ Black, one spoon of honey...and a splash of milk _ , Keith thinks to himself, taking a deep breath through his nose to settle the rampaging thoughts behind knowing the way James takes his tea. 

He adjusts himself more comfortably in his chair, though it does nothing for his actual comfort and looks about the room, a temporary distraction. He can make out the ghost memory of a future where James’ jacket hangs behind a chair and dinner sits forgotten on the counter in his mind. The faded laughter between them, low giggles as they sit closely on the couch, fingers tangled as they watch a movie, Kosmo playing at their feet. 

It aches. 

James, however, waits patiently for Keith to answer him, and it’s surprising to Keith despite knowing James’ mannerisms like the back of his hand. 

Finally, he dares a glance. Brown eyes bore into him, yet they hold nothing of the familiarity he’s come to associate with the pilot because  _ this _ James doesn’t know him, yet but Keith finds the same softness and compassion in his eyes that is always there. And maybe that’s what spurs him to speak. 

“I want to say I’m surprised you figured it out so quickly,” He says in way of an answer, that isn’t much of one, “You always were good at puzzles.”

James eyebrow raises, just like Keith knew they would and goddammit, it squeezes in his chest. His hand clenches in his lap under the table at the unfairness of it all. In exactly eight years, six months and fifteen days from this moment, James Griffin dies and Keith sits here across from him wondering why it took him several additional months afterward to travel back in time to save him. 

Only to fuck up and go back too far. 

“Just, explain yourself Kogane,” James spits out, brows pinching in frustration with the situation. Keith knows his patience wears thin, “I just saw you in Commander Holt’s meeting. Your hair is longer and you look older. And unless you’ve somehow visited that space whale again in the past two hours since I’ve last seen you...you’re from the future.”

Keith scoffs a laugh with a small shake of his head, thumb now picking idly the grain of the table. The mug slams down and harshly echos off the linoleum of the small kitchenette where they sit drawing Keith’s violet eyes back to deep confused and frustrated ones, and they aren’t happy. 

And if there was ever anyone to call Keith Kogane, Black Paladin of Voltron and Leader of the Blade of Marmora, out on his shit. Well, it was his husband. 

Just looking at his spouse's younger counterpart irritates a pain and longing he’d rather never have experienced. Yet, he’s still unable to deny him anything. 

“Ok,” he replies, “I’ll tell you everything.”

—-

Keith remembers the phone call, the way his stomach fell to his feet, and the explicit panic of the next sixteen hours as he waited with bated breath for more information. 

Shiro’s quick action kept Keith from collapsing to the ground once the doctor delivered the news. 

They did what they could—“extensive injuries but now he’s at peace”. Hollow sincerity that meant nothing. 

James had died and there was nothing Keith could do to change that. 

Later, unknowing of how much time had passed, Keith sits on the couch, staring unblinking. Time doesn’t move right for him anymore, as he spends most of it disassociating. He doesn't  _ see _ anything, but the ache in his chest is all encompassing anyway. He wouldn’t have noticed Shiro standing in front of him even if he were snapping in his face. 

“Keith, look at me!”

Apparently, Shiro  _ is  _ standing in front of him, concern and sympathy etched on his solid features that makes his stomach roil. 

“It’s been weeks, let’s get some fresh air?” Shiro coaxes, helping Keith to his feet. He moves on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. The shame isn’t enough to mask the emptiness in his heart as Shiro helps him dress into something not days old. He doesn’t care anyway. 

In the parking garage, Shiro guides him past Atlas, past the lions, and stops at that old hover bike his brother used to have back before Kerberos. Somewhere in his mind, he’s surprised to see it tucked in the corner of the garage, and he coughs when Shiro pulls the tarp off and dust and sand cloud around them. 

Shiro’s smile is beaming, however; infectious enough that the corners of his own mouth twitch. But then the guilt of feeling any sort of happiness without James’ presence is suffocating and the smile fades before it even has time to grow. 

The captain is undeterred. 

He pushes Keith along, until he has no choice but to swing his leg over the hover bike. Instantly, nostalgia hits him but before he can dwell on the feeling, Shiro slides in front of him, revving the engine and taking off without so much as a warning. He’s forced to hang tight, and maybe he’s holding onto Shiro for more than safety, because holding his brother is more comfort than he’s felt in a long time. 

He doesn’t know how far they go or for how long. Keith keeps his eyes closed for the entire trip, focusing on the wind in his hair and the sound of the old bike, still faithful to Shiro after all these years despite the left cylinder not firing. 

They pull off on a mountain ridge, the Garrison a speck in the distance behind him and the endless sky offering possibilities long ignored in front of him. Standing on the cliff side staring at the vast desert and open world before him, he scowls at Shiro when he realizes he died along with James. 

“Why are we here?”

Shiro barely registers he’s spoken, eyes closed and taking deep breaths of fresh air. After a minute, he opens one eye, looking down at Keith and sighs.

“I’m worried about you.” He says, and somewhere inside him he feels bad for making Shiro worry. If anyone understands his pain, it’s Shiro. He was foolish to keep his pain bottled up and his carefully crafted compartmentalized walls crack under his brother's soft gaze. 

It’s too much. He tries to mask the sob as a deep breath, but another one follows almost instantly. Within seconds he’s crying,  _ again _ , and Shiro pulls him close, holding him tight as Keith releases his sorrow in the form of wailing moans and ugly tears. 

He feels lighter.

Afterward, they both stand watching the sunset. Shiro never pushed, besides, what could he say? Nothing could bring James back, so his silent comfort would have to be enough. 

“I have something for you.” Shiro says after a while, eyes still on the sun. He pulls something out of his jacket, a small circular device. “I want to help you Keith, but in doing so…” 

He doesn’t finish, and Keith starts to worry. He puts a hand on his arm, dipping his head to catch Shiro’s eyes, “What is it?”

When Shiro looks to him, there are unshed tears in his eyes. “I asked Pidge to engineer a capsule that could take you back in time, but it’s only capable of a single trip.”

Keith is sure the world has fallen from under him. Shiro is offering him a chance to save James, but the cost is never coming back. 

“It's your choice and I won’t hold it against you if you leave, but I’ll miss the hell out of you.”

Keith gingerly takes the device, suddenly the whole world is in his hands. Shiro pats his shoulder, a single tear sliding down his cheek, “If you decide to stay, you know where to find me.”

He turns to leave, the hoverbike powering up and Shiro looks back once before leaving Keith alone in the desert. 

They both know his choice. 

Keith won’t be staying. 

—-

“And that’s about the gist of it.” Keith finishes, mouth dry and sticky from telling the story. James’ tea has long since turned cold, forgotten as Keith explained his journey, “Except for the obvious mishap of traveling too far into the past.”

“Wow.” James replies as he brushes his fingers through his bangs. He isn’t sure of the ramifications of what he’s just told James, but being caught red handed he didn’t have another choice. Plus, if he even gets a few minutes to see James again, to hear his voice, well that in the end is worth it to Keith. 

“I can’t believe time travel is possible.” 

Keith blinks slowly, “That’s what you take from this? I would have figured knowing our future would be more impactful.”

“Well, Keith and I already…” James’ mouth snaps shut and his own eyes widen. The pilot wears a blush as red as cherries and Keith shifts through his own memories. He did travel further then he wanted, but one glance at the calendar on the wall and he understands. He didn’t realize he miscalculated so spectacularly. 

Even after all this time, he shares James’ blush because while the time frame is blurry, he’s sure they’ve already spent nights sharing each other’s warmth. Years later, Keith still blushes at their intimacy and it hits him squarely in the gut. 

“It’s been fun, but I’ve got to go.” Escapism, one of his talents. 

A chair scraps along the floor as he stands, but he turns for one last look. 

James wears a confused face, bangs low in his eyes. 

“That’s it? You’re leaving?” 

A moment of weakness overcomes him, and he approaches James if only to cup his cheek one last time. James brown eyes are moving questioning between his own. “You don’t need me, and if I run into my past self, it will only corrupt the timeline further.” 

A whisper passes his lips, “Will I see you again?”

There’s hope passing through James’ eyes and Keith  _ wants _ so badly. But he knows he has to stay away. His and James’ relationship needs to progress naturally and his presence will only complicate everything. The only thing to do is leave and come back when the time is right. 

Keith leans in, stops before their lips touch, and kisses his cheek instead. 

“You won’t see  _ me _ ever again, Jamie.”

——

Years pass and James keeps the Keith from the future in the back of his mind. Yet,  _ his _ Keith is a constant by his side. The ring hanging around his neck glistens in the sun as he veers his ship to the right. A last ditch effort by the remaining Galra that hid away and James and the other MFEs are caught in the middle of it. 

“Kinkade, watch my six.” He practically yells into the com, taking out three cruisers with Ryan’s help. Rizavi and Leifsdottir are in the distance, taking out cruiser after cruiser. A Galran battleship lowers below the clouds as more cruisers emerge from it. 

They’ve been going for hours. The team is tired yet the fire from seeing more Galra try to raid the Garrison is fuel for inspiration, “Let’s get these assholes.” He growls and in succession gets a response as full of rage as his own, “Yeah!”

They fly and fight like a well oiled machine and Galran cruisers decorate the desert sand below. It’s as James shoots through another cruiser that he gets the message from Leifsdotter the Galra are in retreat. Sure enough, he watches as the few left in flight turn and run with their tail between their legs. Comms are soon filled with whoops and cheers. 

James doesn’t hear the incoming message from the Garrison over the hoopla. 

The other MFEs turn to return to the Garrison, leaving James hovering over the wreckage and absorbing their victory a moment longer. 

A moment too long. 

“James, get out of there!” Rizavi yells in his ear, but it’s too late. His cockpit is bathed in violet light—an ion blast—the soundless death coming towards him faster then he can move his ship. Time slows, and his life flashes before him. The Garrison, his friends, his family, Keith, every moment he won’t ever get to live. 

Just that morning, lazy with sleep Keith asked if they could get away for the weekend, for a  _ real  _ honeymoon they had yet to have. James gave in, kissing his nose and immediately picking up his datapad to request time off because Keith  _ never _ asks for anything. He clutches the ring—Keith’s ring— heavy on his chest, until it hurts. 

Suddenly, the memory of Keith from the future is all he can think about. How gentle he held James’ cheek, the softness of his lips as they pressed into his skin, and the pained look in his violet eyes before he left and all he can muster to whisper is, ‘ _ I'm sorry’ _ , because it seems Keith came back to the past for nothing and that  _ his _ Keith won’t ever get his honeymoon. 

An explosion rocks his ship and muscle memory has him over correcting before his mind can even process what happened. He struggles for control, alarms beeping all around him. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping his mind blank enough to process the motions of the landing sequence. It happens like an out of body experience, until he’s back on solid ground. 

Voices are loud in his ear, and he throws off his helmet, looking back at where he almost  _ died! _ Debris is falling from the sky, remnants of a ship. Voltron swoops in seconds later, removing the battleship from their airspace before it can charge another blast. 

Emergency personnel arrive moments after, assessing him for injuries. 

“Where are you hurt?” Someone asks, and he finally pulls his eyes away from the blast area. He shakes his head, completely unharmed save for being scared shitless when a tear falls onto his hand. When did he start crying? He’s ushered away and he lets the EMT staff take him. 

—

“Who was piloting the ship that intercepted the ion blast?” James asks at debriefing later, his mouth dry, an inkling of an idea coming to the forefront of his mind. 

“We’re not sure,” Veronica answers, pulling up images of the wreckage, “It was from a ship not registered with us. In fact, I’ve never seen one like it before.”

James is breathing heavily, all the confirmation he needs from the images. The debris matches the same armor Keith was wearing all those years ago. He never thought…

A hand finds his own, and James grounds himself in its comfort. He opens his eyes—not realizing they were even closed— to find Keith watching him with concern. James studies his face, so different yet so similar to the Keith he met from the future that he’s overwhelmed with grief and gratefulness. He squeezes Keith hand tighter, pulling it up to his lips to place a lingering kiss to his knuckles, his own matching ring cool under his lips. 

A thank you for something Keith will never know happened. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
